"I was seven years old in 1984 and our family lived on Windsor Road in Porthcawl, south Wales. At the end of the road was The Esplanade on the seafront that led to The Grand Pavilion. On Saturday 23rd June 1984 we wandered to the end of our road and saw the Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher being driven to the Pavilion to speak to members of the Welsh Conservative Party. She waved at us as she passed our road. Later that day we walked along the seafront and got there in time to see Thatcher being egged by the Dyfed Farmer’s action group (who were protesting at Common Market agriculture policies) and a group of miner’s wives (protesting about the coal strike which was then in it’s thirteenth week) as she left the Pavilion. Seeing the reaction to Thatcher leaving Porthcawl that day brought home what a divisive figure she was. I was as aware of the miner’s strike as a seven year old could be but unaware of the vitriol that Thatcher was able to produce in people, especially in south Wales. When I photographed people lining the streets of central London to catch a glimpse of her funeral cortege 29 years later the feeling of divisiveness was apparent again. Pockets of people protesting, pockets of people applauding and suddenly London felt as though it had gone back in time. In many ways we seem to be revisiting the past again, especially with the EU referendum approaching this summer as Thatcher’s legacy continues to cast a long shadow over our country.” - James O Jenkins